


Like Fire

by missmuffet



Category: Burn Notice
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon, F/M, Gift Work, Not Canon Compliant, Raggywrites, Unbeta'd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-23
Updated: 2012-12-23
Packaged: 2017-11-22 02:51:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/604997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmuffet/pseuds/missmuffet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The rumor goes like this: you know you’ve seated yourself in an bar-front for the IRA when the bartender crafts the foam into the shape of a shamrock. This rumor, for the most part, Michael has come to learn is entirely false on most accounts. </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p>Part of the Holiday Writing Challenge I gave myself as tumblr; a fic for every reblog. Here lies all of the Burn Notice fics, though this may also host fics with smaller fandoms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Written for inseparable101 on tumblr  
> Pairing: Fiona/Michael

The rumor goes like this: you know you’ve seated yourself in an bar-front for the IRA when the bartender crafts the foam into the shape of a shamrock. This rumor, for the most part, Michael has come to learn is entirely false on most accounts. The truest way for one realize the bar they’ve spent the better part of the night at, is, in fact, a front for an IRA headquarters follows thusly.

It is when the spy has allowed himself several drinks in order to blend in with the locals. It is when his accent has yet to quake or stutter, when he’s kept his head clear enough to keep himself aware of his surroundings and yet still finds himself caught in the spider’s web - quite literally. It is when the press of her lips is soft against the nape of his neck despite the fact that her nails are sharp and heavy against his back. It is when the silk tie at his wrists, bound tightly over his head, has officially cut off his circulation, when she grinds her hips sharply forward and he realizes, belatedly, that their positions have somehow been reversed. It is when the room they occupy is less of a room, and more of an office they’ve broken into.

Michael West realizes he is in yet another IRA bar his intell reports haven’t quite caught up with not because of the sudden snarl of the woman behind him, threatening that she should cut traitor into his forearm, but for the simple fact that in the dark, Fiona can find the spot at his neck still bruised from their last encounter to trace as she threatens him idly. This bar must be a front for the Irish Republican Army because this is the third time in the past two months that something like this has happened, and each time, Michael could have sworn it was a different woman each time - not a firestorm in disguise.


End file.
